Too Late
by itwasawonderfulsplash
Summary: Ron Weasley gets an unpleasant surprise when he visits Hermione. Oneshot, complete. DHr


Yes, I wrote another story! Be warned, however: it isn't like CBML at all. It's rather angsty and sad, not lighthearted and cutesy. Oh, and Ron is the main character in this one. It's quite different from anything else in my hard drive at the moment, but I think it's interesting just the same.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, obviously. Don't make any money, obviously. Please.

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Ron Weasley climbed the stone stairs of the Head Dormitory. Don't be mistaken, now, he wasn't a Head. A prefect, yes, but everyone knew he only held the position because Dumbledore hadn't wanted to further burden his best friend, Harry Potter. Still, it held several perks, like being able to have access to the Head Dormitory at any time of the day or night. For emergencies, you understand.

Not that the reason he was there now was an emergency, per se. It didn't have anything to do with Hogwarts or problems concerning students. It was a personal visit, and he didn't think that McGonagall would appreciate his reason for visiting his best friend in the middle of the night, if he was caught and had to explain.

Nevertheless, he felt it was necessary. No, he _knew _he had to do it. For the first time in seven years, he felt ready to confess his love to Hermione Granger. He had just been thinking about her, as he often did, alone, in his bed (sometimes, yes, with naughty thoughts- he _was _a teenage male, after all) and his mind wandered to their not-quite relationship. For years he had suspected that she liked him, and he had certainly liked her in return, but he hadn't ever felt that the time was right. It felt off, like if he told her of his feelings she would be scared away and then he wouldn't even have her as a friend.

He'd just made up his mind, though, there in his bed, that now he was ready. _Now _he could do it, and felt that she'd reciprocate his feelings and it would all be jolly and dandy.

The thought made him grin slightly and increase his pace, the winding staircase ending abruptly with a small landing. There were three doors, one on each side and one in the middle -a bathroom, he guessed- and he knew that the door on the left was probably Hermione's, if the slightly reddish tint was any indication. The other... He glanced at it distastefully, the dark mahogany of the wood reflecting his feelings for it's inhabitant. _Malfoy_, he thought again with a grimace of anger. He'd hated the git unflinchingly for seven years, and had no plans to stop now or any time in the future.

But now wasn't the time to reflect on the ferret. Now he was ready, finally, _finally_, to confess to his best friend his undying love. He braced himself for a moment, and thought of her. She was undoubtedly beautiful in an unconventional way; brown hair that could kindly be called voluminous, and meanly described as a rat's nest; deep, thoughtful chocolate-brown eyes that positively twinkled when she laughed... Merlin, he loved her.

He had worn Harry's invisibility cloak previously, so as to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but he shed it as he attempted to pull open the door to her room, and to his surprise it opened effortlessly. (He was relieved- he hadn't planned for what would happen if he couldn't get in). Still though, the door didn't have any wards on it, and he knew that just wasn't like Hermione. Maybe she had set them so that he was allowed to enter? He was positively giddy at the thought, and in his excitement, his brain didn't at first register what he saw as he strode to her bed.

After a moment, however, it did and his stomach felt as if he'd been violently, mercilessly sucker punched and he sucked in a breath. _What in Merlin's name?! _He approached as if possessed, his body reacting before his mind could tell it to. In three strides he was right next to her bedside, and felt a second wave of absolute shock.

Hermione was there, asleep as he had expected. She smiled slightly in her slumber, face relaxed and peaceful. Here his mind stumbled as he analyzed what else he saw.... No, it was more than that. Ron Weasley saw absolute _red _as he looked down at Draco Malfoy curled around his almost-girlfriend.

The Slytherin boy wore only a thin pair of black boxers, and his pale skin seemed to shine in the night. He was partly underneath Hermione, his arm curled over her stomach and her head nestled onto his shoulder, one of her hands entwined with his.

Everything inside the youngest Weasley male rejected what he saw. It couldn't be! Hermione hated Malfoy just like he did, just like he always had, just like _they _always had! Still, after a few moments, and when neither of them sprang up and shouted, "_Got you! We're only joking, we really do hate each other! Ha ha ha!_", he began to really sweat.

And with the sweat came a roll of rage that caused his vision to shake and his throat to clench. He was absolutely fucking furious at both of them for... for.... He let out a shaky breath that did nothing to alleviate his anger and stepped closer to what he'd believed was one of his best friends. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He knew it would wake her up, and it did. Gasping, she sat up quickly, causing Malfoy's arm to fall limply to the bed.

Ron could see what she was wearing properly, now, and it brought his anger to new heights. An obviously male dress shirt that was much too long and much too big for her, and a pair of green boxers that looked suspiciously to be in the same style as the black ones her companion wore.

Ron swore loudly at the sight of them. "_Ron?_" Hermione murmured, peering into the darkness around her bed at someone she couldn't quite see. She grabbed her wand amuttered a quick, _"Lumos_." She glanced up at who was indeed her best friend, and saw the anger etched onto his face which reminded her, jarringly, of the boy who she was currently sharing a bed with.

_This isn't going to be pretty_, she thought tiredly.

"_What the _hell _do you think you're doing, Hermione?" _he hissed at her, and she flinched at the obvious anger and betrayal in her best friend's voice. Still, she tilted her chin up. She was not embarrassed.

"I can explain."

"You can explain!" he mocked, and Hermione was unpleasantly reminded of how mean he could be when he was angry. "Oh, that's absolutely brilliant! You can _explain_. Well go on. _Explain _why it's the middle of the night and I find you with a half-naked DRACO MALFOY IN YOUR BED!" he shouted, his face becoming redder and redder.

Somewhere between the second 'explain' and the yelling, the Slytherin in question had awoken. His first thought was that his father was in the room and was shouting at him for his grades or his Quidditch failings or some such shite, but woke up quickly enough to realize where he was, who he was with, and whose dulcet voice had woken him from his oh-so-pleasant slumber (he'd been having a _very _delectable dream about Hermione and beaches, thank you very much). He quickly and silently considered his odds of being pummeled if he made his consciousness known, and instantly decided that he would just pretend to still be asleep.

He knew by the way Hermione's muscles tensed that she was angry, and prepared for the onslaught that was to come. He smirked. Weasley had no idea what was coming to him.

"First off," she screeched, standing up abruptly to glare at Ron, "why are you in my room in the middle of the night, anyways?"

He glowered at her. "It doesn't matter now, does it? Anything I was going to say is pointless now!" She appeared, through her anger, confused.

"What? What are you talking about, R-?"

He cut her off with a harsh laugh. "I was _going _to tell you that I love you and that I thought we should start _dating_!" She froze, and so did Draco.

"Ron..." she began, and his throat constricted again at the tone of her voice. It was loving and full of apology.

"Ron," she said again, and he heard her tears. "You know I love you. You _know _I do."

She reached for him beseechingly, and the Weasley boy felt hope. She was going to admit that she liked him! She didn't love Malfoy! _Though how_, his exalted brain thought smugly, _could she have anyway?_ He was just mistaking what he was seeing, was all. She would say it was just a passing thing, a small fancy, nothing compared to how she wished to be with him. He was filled with a sudden and wonderful feeling at the thought of it, and he allowed her to touch his arm and step closer to him.

"But I love you as a friend," she continued, and well damn, _that _brought his high down. When did she get so blunt? _Malfoy_, the traitor voice hissed. _She picked it up from Malfoy. _

_"_When did it start?" he asked coldly. He stepped back from her touch and sneered.

She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. "Ron-"

"_When?_"

She looked up and squared her jaw, ready for a fight. "Sixth months ago."

In a moment of admittedly thoughtless anger, he spun around and slammed her to the wall, roughly, his arm harsh against her stomach and his eyes blazing. She cried out at the force and Draco leaped lithely, his tall frame quick as he bounded over to Ron in one jump, tearing him bodily from the petite witch.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing, Weasley?" he snarled, eyes narrowed as he shoved Ron to the ground, away from Hermione. She glanced up at him and he saw the fear in her eyes. When Ron was scrambling up, Malfoy stealthily stepped to the side and blocked her from view of the volatile redhead, who predictably charged at Malfoy.

He was prepared, and with a flash of his wand, Ron was thrown back by a blocking curse.

"Did you really not see that coming?" the blond wizard sneered. Hermione rather thought that now wasn't the time to be doing that sort of thing, but opted not to say anything.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron snapped, and turned his attention to Hermione, whose head he could just see peeking over Malfoy's shoulder. "Hermione," he said quietly, "I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"To attack her, Weasley?" Malfoy's cold voice cut in. Ron stood up and tried very, very, hard not to let his anger show on his face. He ignored the wizard standing protectively in front of Hermione, and tried again to speak with her.

"Hermione," he began again, "I'm sorry. I just want to know what-"

He was cut off again by the Slytherin. "I really don't think it's any of your business, Weasley," he said calmly, and rolled his eyes for good measure.

Now Ron's feigned unagitated air was beginning to wear off. He _did _have a right to know, dammit! He loved Hermione, and she apparently... He couldn't even bring himself to think it. Fortunately for him, he was saved from revealing his anger when Hermione intervened.

"Draco," she said softly, and he turned to gaze down at her, and, though Ron couldn't see the look he gave her, he witnessed Hermione's face soften, so it couldn't have been anything good. "I think we should tell him."

Malfoy stiffened noticeably, but remembered her words earlier. _As a friend_, his mind repeated. _Friends. She likes him as a friend only._ It was this that caused him to nod curtly, and she knew that it took much for him to divulge something as special to him as their relationship to someone he really disliked such as Ron. She was glad he trusted her enough. She knew that the whole time they'd been together he had thought that he wasn't good enough for her and that she would realize this and run off to Ron. It was utter nonsense, of course, but it told her that he cared and she loved him for it.

Malfoy slowly and deliberately stepped to the side just as Hermione moved to stand next to him. She took his hand almost absentmindedly. Ron twitched. When the blond boy's thumb rubbed comfortingly onto her palm, Ron felt his throat constrict again. Not in anger this time, but pain and shame. He was too late. He could tell from this small, intimate gesture that he had lost the girl of his dream, the person he had loved for seven years. Lost her to his enemy.

Yes, Hermione Granger loved Draco Malfoy. Funny how the world worked out that way. But where did that leave Ron Weasley?

As she took a breath to begin, as she'd said she would, to tell the story, Ron cut her off. He felt suddenly that he didn't want to hear the story, that he _couldn't._ There was only so much pain, so much rejection a wizard could take. He really didn't know whether or not he'd be able to last the whole time withouth letting a few tears escape. They were already close to shedding themselves; he could feel them, those traitorous drops, on the precipices of his eyelids, and as much as he willed them away, they would not go.

"It doesn't matter," he said heavily, and was surprised to hear how defeated it sounded. "It's really not imprortant, Hermione. I- I need to go now."

She frowed at him, and the concern that was so damn obvious on her face broke the dam. His hot tears spilled over, rolling down his cheeks. He could taste the salt as a few slipped over his chapped lips. His heart was surely broken, his hope torn away.

Her lower lip was trembling now, too, and he couldn't stomach seeing it. Seeing her in pain hurt him more than he thought it would, and he knew then what he had to do.

Quickly, he strode up to her, past Malfoy, and stopped a foot away, not touching. Just observing. He saw her brown eyes widen with pain at his own hurt, saw her fingers tighten around Malfoy's, recognized the look of helplessness on her face. He knew that while she was sorry she hurt him, she wouldn't leave Malfoy.

Ron reached forward and gently cupped her face in his hands. He felt Malfoy stiffen but paid him no mind. This he was doing for Hermione, and for himself. He lowered his lips to hers and gently, softly, and so briefly that sometime later he would question whether or not their lips even touched, he kissed her. When he pulled away, he saw her eyes were shiny with tears again, and despite his raw heart he smiled, and then walked out the door and down the stone steps, his pace quickening as his resolve strengthened.

Ron Weasley was going to forget Hermione Granger. He had to, for both of them.

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_Author's Note_: Wow. I really didn't expect that to be so angst-ridden. It was originally supposed to be a comedy, even. Goes to show how much the story writes itself as much as I write the story, I suppose. Poor Ron though, right? :(

Anyways, thanks as ever for reading and darlings, reviews would be simply _divine_.

Chao bellas.


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